


Unable To Recall

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor doesn't usually forget things. But one day, something takes away his memory of the last two years, and Rose is left with a Time Lord who doesn't even remember regenerating, let alone her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There were many things the Doctor thought he knew about Rose Marion Tyler. She was compassionate and funny, helpful and friendly, adept in a crisis, good at running. She made the best of a bad situation, and she was always there to hold his hand. She lived on the TARDIS as though the ship had always been her home, and their visits back to Jackie were...well, bearable. More than bearable, now, really. He actually quite enjoyed them, but he'd never tell her that.

She was messy and clever and good at drawing. She wrote an account of their adventures in a diary so that she could keep track of linear time. She wore her TARDIS key on a chain around her neck most of the time, and when he'd asked her about it she'd blushed in that pretty way she did, mumbling something about how she liked the feel of it against her chest, against her heart. He knew about her past from the stories she and her mother had regaled him with, and he knew about her present for he was always with her nowadays.

There were also many things he thought he knew about his friendship with Rose Marion Tyler. He knew that he enjoyed her company immensely, and vice versa. He knew that he hugged her as often as possible, and made excuses to sit or stand close to her. He knew that she brightened up the room, and his life, when she was nearby. He knew that she could persuade him to do almost anything, but he also knew she was the one who would stop him when he went too far. He knew that she was his brilliant best friend who he would share the whole universe with if he could, and he knew that he'd keep her here with him as long as she wanted. He knew that he would find it extremely difficult to ever let her go. He knew that his friendship with her was so much more than friendship really, and he knew that at some point he really should tell her exactly how he actually felt.

All of this, he knew.

He never expected to forget any of it. Never thought he was capable of forgetting any facet of Rose Tyler, or what she meant to him.

Nonetheless, one day, he did.

::

Panting for breath, Rose shoved open the TARDIS doors and, stumbling under the weight, she half-carried, half-dragged the unconscious Doctor across the grating. The doors slammed shut behind her and she deposited the Doctor on the floor next to the jumpseat, unable to lift his surprisingly heavy body up into the chair itself. She hurried across to the console and looked up at the time rotor beseechingly. "Please work with me here," she whispered to the TARDIS, before implementing the sequence that would take them into the vortex — the sequence the Doctor had been teaching her recently on her introductory lessons in How To Fly A TARDIS. Thankfully, with just a brief groan, the TARDIS did as instructed. Once the ship had stopped moving, she dashed around to the console screen and heaved a sigh of relief when she recognised that they were indeed now in the vortex. Safe. "Thank you," she whispered, resting her hand against the console.

She glanced over at the sleeping Doctor. "Not bad, eh? Shame you didn't get to see it." Finally getting her breathing under control, she stepped back over to the Doctor, and sat down beside him. She bit her lip as she looked him over; he must be so uncomfortable lying on his back on the hard grating, but she supposed he couldn't feel it seeing as he'd been knocked unconscious. Her hands went to his head and she examined it gently, running her fingers through his hair and finding the sore bump where he'd been whacked. "I'd go and get some stuff from the medical room," she murmured, taking his hand in hers and entwining their fingers. "But I don't want to leave you on your own when you're like this. We'll patch you up when you're awake, yeah? Yeah."

She sat like that, cross-legged and holding his hand, for another half an hour. She was starting to lose her patience, and she had really bad pins and needles. "Doctor," she mumbled, tugging on his arm. "Time to wake up now, eh? Come on. Wakey wakey. God, you moan about me taking too long sleeping. I know how it feels now. Come on! Wake up so that I know you're alright, you daft alien!" She sighed, knowing it was hopeless. She glared at him briefly and muttered, "Better not regenerate on me again."

After a few more minutes, his eyes fluttered open. He quickly sat up, his gaze unfocused and his expression confused.

"Hey!" she grinned warmly, squeezing his hand. "You're back, then! How are you feeling? You took a really nasty blow to the head, I had to carry — well, drag — you back in here. Sorry I left you in such an uncomfy position on the floor, but you're heavier than you look and I'm knackered."

His response was just a blank stare, and Rose's smile faded.

"What is it? Are you badly hurt?" she asked quickly, shifting onto her knees to get closer to him.

He cleared his throat. "No, I think I'm — ooh. That's — that's very odd. New voice." He looked down at his lap. "Pinstripes, eh? Weeelll, I s'pose they're - "

"Doctor," she interrupted impatiently. "You don't remember regenerating?"

"Nope," he answered, popping the 'p.' "When did I do that, then?"

She swallowed thickly. "Ages back. Months ago."

His brow furrowed. "How did I...?"

"It was...well, it was to save my life," she replied quietly.

He smiled. "Oh, that's nice. A noble death. Honour and valour and — sorry, what was your name?"

She dropped his hand in surprise. "Oh. You — you don't remember me," she stated shakily.

He tilted his head to his side in contemplation. "No, sorry. From my perspective it's as though I've never seen you before in my life, until now. Have we known each other long?"

"Nearly two years," she choked out, unsure how to deal with this situation. "Look, will you get your memories back, do you think? It's 'cos of the head thing, right, so at some point, once you've healed, your memories of us will return?"

"Oh yes, I expect so. What was it I was hit with?"

"A large plank of wood. The Rengogs weren't too happy with us after we upturned their corrupt slave system," she informed him, with a sheepish smile.

"The Rengogs? Interesting..." he hummed. Then he looked a bit more alert, his eyes focussing on her properly. "Wait, if they hurt me because of it...are you okay? They didn't hit you over the head with a plank of wood, did they?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine, ta."

He sighed, evidently relieved. "Good."

"So...what's the last thing you remember?"

His expression darkened and he winced. "I remember, uh...after the war, the..." He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Rose slipped her hand back into his and squeezed it sympathetically.

"That's all over now, Doctor," she said softly. "You and me, we travel across the universe together having fun adventures and saving worlds. It's a great hobby."

He opened his eyes again and jumped a bit at finding her suddenly so close. "Am I...nice?"

She giggled in surprise. "Yeah, course you are. To me, anyway," she grinned, sticking her tongue between her teeth.

He smiled back. "Am I happy?" he asked, thinking that he could probably work that out considering the last few minutes have been very happy indeed, simply because this girl was sitting so very close and holding his hand.

"I think so," she replied. "I hope so. Yeah. You laugh a lot, anyway. And sometimes you get this expression on your face when you look at me and I..." She trailed off, her cheeks tinting a bit pink.

"What?" he smirked.

"I dunno," she replied, a bit embarrassed. "Just...I dunno, I can't explain it."

He cleared his throat gently. "Sorry to have to ask this, but...well, you didn't answer me before - "

"Oh!" she realised abruptly. "Sorry, yeah — I'm Rose. Rose Tyler. Your best friend," she added cheekily.

"Rose Tyler," he murmured, testing out the name. It sounded perfect. "Lovely." He paused, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. "Um, Rose...do you mind if I ask you something else?"

"Course not, go ahead," she smiled encouragingly.

"You said, uh, that we're best friends?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Why?"

"Are we anything...else?" he asked awkwardly.

She blinked at him. "Depends on what you mean by that..."

"Well, it's just — now, you see, this is a bit odd, but — well..."

"Doctor, get on with it," she muttered.

"Right, yes, sorry. It's just, I don't remember you, yet I do have this feeling that I should, and I also have this uh, fluttery feeling right here," he told her, pointing to his stomach. "And analysis of my chemical processes within my body tells me that there is an element of me that does still remember you, or at least, remembers how to respond to you being near, so I was wondering whether...I mean it's silly, really, I don't do this, ever, after all, but...but I thought perhaps, seeing as one can't argue with scientific proof and all that, perhaps..."

"Are you seriously leaving it to when you don't actually remember me to tell me that you fancy me?" she asked simply.

His eyes widened. "No, no, no, no...I merely, uh...so we don't — we aren't — we haven't - "

"Nope."

"Oh. That's weird then. Because you see, I should only feel like this if we had."

"Doctor, you have amazing self-restraint," she informed him. "And really, believe me, I'm fine with that."

He wrinkled his nose up, taking her words to mean she was strongly opposed to the idea. "Oh dear. Have I got myself into the awkward situation of unrequited - "

She quickly slammed her hand over his mouth and met his gaze steadily. "Don't say that word," she told him quickly. "Not while you're like this." He mumbled something against her hand, but she ignored him and continued, "For the record, I do feel the same way, and I think you probably know that — or at least, you know that when you have all your memories - but we never talk about it so just keep schtum for now, yeah?"

She removed her hand and he looked at her in bewilderment. "Okay," he mumbled, chastened. He was silent for a moment. "Are you glad that we don't talk about it?" he asked her then. "Or..."

She lifted her hand again; a warning. He stopped talking.


	2. Chapter 2

They adjourned to the medical room.

"How's your head feeling?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "Not too bad. Bit sore." He paused, then looked alarmed when Rose handed him some tablets. "Are those aspirin? I can't take - "

Rose rolled her eyes. "Of course they aren't aspirin. You think I want to kill you?"

He sighed in relief. "You know that I'm allergic, then."

"Yes. Obviously. I have lived with you for nearly two years."

"Right, sorry, of course," he nodded, giving her a sheepish smile. He swallowed the non-aspirin painkillers and watched her carefully as she started to patch up his wounded head. "So, you like it here, then?"

"Wouldn't stay if I didn't," she answered cheerily.

"Right. Yes." He winced as she applied some antiseptic cream to the bump on his crown. "How did we meet?"

"You saved my life in the basement of the shop I worked in, then blew it up."

"Ah." He smiled proudly.

"Don't look so smug. You only survived the Nestene Consciousness 'cos of my amazing gymnastic skills," she grinned, tongue between teeth.

He raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like an adventure."

"Oh, it was. We have lots of those."

"So…I take it that you're human. Earth. Going by your language and the way you dress…London, twenty…first century?"

"Yep. Good deduction skills, Holmes."

"Thanks," he grinned.

"There we go, that's you all bandaged up. Hopefully it'll heal quickly, yeah? You usually go on about your superior Time Lord genes, so…"

"Yeah, I should be fine soon," he reassured her. "Not sure when my memory will come back, though — things like that can be a bit temperamental after a bump on the head."

"You will get it back, though, yeah? For definite?" she asked nervously.

"Oh, I should think so. Don't worry, Rose Tyler. I'll be back to normal in no time."

"Is there any way to speed up the process, do you reckon? Like, shall I show you some photos of the past couple of years, see if it jogs your memory?"

His eyes lit up. "That sounds like a lovely idea. Are there many?"

"What?"

"Photographs. Of us."

She smiled, suddenly a bit shy about it. "Well, yeah. I like taking photos. Made you an album for your birthday."

His eyebrows furrowed. "I don't celebrate my birthday," he said in surprise.

"You do now," she corrected firmly. "After all, who'd want to pass up the chance for cake and presents?"

His hearts warmed with affection for this young woman. "You really…"

She shrugged. "You took me to Paris for my birthday; it was the least I could do."

"Paris?" he retorted, wrinkling his nose up.

"What's wrong with Paris?" she asked defensively, folding her arms.

"Nothing. Just a bit…cliché, really. I'd've thought I could come up with somewhere more romantic than Paris - "

"Well we don't talk about that, remember."

"Don't talk about what?"

"The, er, romance thing."

He sighed impatiently. "Rose. It seems to me that we are a bit daft. Why don't we just - "

"Stop it. You don't even know me properly right at this moment."

"No, but instinct tells me that the way I feel means something."

"Doctor?" she murmured suspiciously.

"Yes?"

"Did that bump on the head awaken your…" she trailed off.

"My what?"

"Nothing." She sighed heavily and glanced at the door. "Maybe I should let you rest."

"No!" He cleared his throat, then said, more gently, "No. You mentioned photos? I'd like to see them."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. The album's in your room, I think." She held out her hand and, having jumped down from the infirmary bed, he took it firmly in his, smiling in delight as she led him down the corridor.

"So you know where my room is," he murmured.

"Yeah, opposite mine," she replied, sounding confused. "Why are you so surprised about that?"

"I usually situate my guests' rooms far away from mine."

"Well I'm not just a guest," she sniffed, and shouldered open his door.

"No apparently you're not," he agreed softly.

She let go of his hand and went rummaging through his bedside drawers.

"I think I ought to be offended by your invasion of my privacy, but something tells me that you do this quite a lot."

"Pffft, you're the one who invades personal space, mister," she retorted, then sighed. "Where've you put it now? It's usually in there." She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "Any ideas?"

"How should I know?" he replied with a shrug. He went over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him. She dutifully sat. "Let's see. Bookshelves? Under the bed? Or maybe…" He reached around her and felt under his pillow. "Aha!"

She blinked at him in surprise as he held out the embossed, hand-crafted book. "That's it. Why would it - "

"I get the feeling I'm secretly sentimental this time around. It's probably my bedtime reading," he smirked, then opened it up. "Oh," he murmured, the smirk dropping off his face. "There we are."

She looked over his shoulder at the first picture of them both in there. "Yep. That's the you that you remember being, right?"

"Yes," he nodded, then looked at her steadily. "I'm glad that you…"

"What?"

"Stayed."

"Hmm?"

"After me regenerating. That must have been quite a shock. I doubt I told you about it beforehand?"

"Nope, you didn't," she said, in a reprimanding tone. "But I wasn't gonna leave you over it. You're the same man. I got used to that fact quite quickly, I s'pose."

"Do you miss that me?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah, course. But I like this you just as much."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"That's nice."

"Yeah, it is."

They stared at each other for a few moments, and then he sniffed and turned back to the photo album, turning the page. "When did you make this, by the way?" he asked.

"Oh, I'd been working on it for ages. Gave it to you last month. But we add to it together, whenever we get a chance to print off some more photos. That's why there are loads of pages left blank near the end. For future snapshots."

"It's a wonderful idea, Rose. I never really think about stopping and commemorating things."

"Well that's why you've got me," she smiled cheerfully.

"Mmm."

They continued to look through the photos for quite a while, shifting around halfway through to lean against the headboard and pillows for better comfort. When they reached the penultimate page, Rose murmured, "Oh, and that's us last week, in St Lucia. We had a bit of a holiday."

He stared at the photo and swallowed thickly.

"Doctor, you're blushing," she said, starting to laugh. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he assured her. "I just — you — uh. You're - "

"Wearing a bikini? Yep. You've seen me in that a fair bit, to be honest. In the TARDIS pool or if we go to the seaside or whatever."

"Ah. Right. Yes. Lovely." He tried to forcibly slow his pulse.

"It's okay; I know you're fond of it. That's why I wear it," she grinned teasingly.

"Rose, can I ask you something?"

"Mmm?"

"If you and I are both so aware of — of — well, of each other, then why do we persist in not talking about it?"

She sighed, and resolved to answer him. "Two reasons. Mostly because we're a bit worried about what might happen to our friendship otherwise. But also I think we secretly enjoy it."

"Enjoy what?"

"The suspense," she smiled to herself. "It's like we're teetering on the edge and — I dunno. It sounds daft. But it's as though it could happen at any moment, and I like the spontaneity of that."

"Really?"

"Really," she nodded.

He sighed. "I can't wait to get my memories back."

"Me neither."

"I feel so odd," he whispered, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest against the wall above the headboard. "It's like half of me recognises you — or at least, recognises what it's like to be near you — and yet I just can't remember anything of the last two years. Can't recollect any of the moments that have happened in our time together that would've induced such feelings in me. It's a very strange sensation. If I were inclined to being melodramatic and saccharine, I'd almost call it -"

"Don't," she murmured quickly, but it was too late.

"- love at first sight," he finished, then opened his eyes to find her huffing and puffing at him. "Sorry."

"It's all right. I just don't want you to be waking up and, once you've regained your memory, regretting saying all this stuff."

"I'm sure I won't."

"Well I'm not so sure," she sighed. "You do pick your moments, Doctor."

"I'm sorry," he said again, reaching for her hand. She let him take it, and he entwined their fingers. "This feels right. Do we do this a lot?"

"Yes. Since day one," she replied quietly.

"Thought so," he nodded. He swallowed nervously then asked, "In the photos, we appear to be standing and sitting very close all the time, often with our arms around each other and whatnot. Is that also an everyday occurrence?"

"Yep. Any excuse for a hug, that's us," she couldn't help but smile.

He hesitated. Then, tentatively, he said, "Could we do that now, do you think?"

"Hmm?"

"I could do with a hug, that's all. It's just…" he closed his eyes and exhaled roughly, then opened them again to find her staring at him openly, warmly. "For me, it feels like it's been a while since I've hugged anyone, let alone you."

"Okay," she smiled, and they let go of each other's hands to wrap themselves in each other's arms instead, lying on their sides on the bed. "This is my favourite type, by the way," she whispered against his chest.

He buried his smile in the top of her head. "What, horizontal hugging?"

"Yeah." She paused. "Stop smirking."

"I'm not smirking," he smirked. "But you're right, this does feel good." He squeezed her a little bit tighter, but not unpleasantly so; in fact, Rose loved it when he held her this closely to him. "I suppose it would be completely out of the question to roll you onto your back - "

"Yes, you suppose correctly," she giggled.

"Right. Just checking." He paused, sniffing contemplatively. "I apologise; hugging you like this appears to make me a bit amorous."

"Tell me about it," she muttered. He started to literally do just that, so she hurriedly added, "No, don't really."

"Okay. Sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

Neither of them meant to fall asleep.

Certainly it wasn't the most advisable thing for him to do, seeing as he'd taken such a nasty blow to the head, but they both accidentally dozed off, still wrapped up in their horizontal hug. They remained in much the same position for a while, until Rose turned over in her sleep, shifting onto her other side. The Doctor subsequently curved his arm around her waist and unconsciously tugged himself closer to her.

Hence why, upon Rose's awakening, she promptly rolled her eyes. "Typical. Spooning me and he doesn't even remember," she mumbled sleepily to herself. She reached her arm behind her and patted him on the leg. "Doctor. Wake up." There was no response, so she pinched his thigh. "Doctor."

"Mmmff," he muttered in reply, as he stirred partially awake. His mouth was buried somewhere near her neck, and his steady breathing against her skin was starting to make Rose shiver.

Swallowing thickly, and absolutely trying to ignore the way his hips shifted subtly into her behind, Rose said loudly, "Dangerous territory, Doctor."

He jerked awake properly, and released his hold on her, flopping onto his back. "Ah." He cleared his throat firmly. "Apologies."

She couldn't help but giggle, and rolled onto her back too. They lay side by side for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling. Then, she turned her head slightly to regard him. "Any memories back yet?"

The Doctor met her gaze and shook his head. "I'm afraid not — not properly."

"Hmm? How do you mean?"

He glanced away awkwardly. "Well. I had a dream. But it didn't strike me as a memory, more sort of…wishful thinking."

"Oh my god," she muttered, rolling her eyes again. Not that she could talk; she'd had her fair share of fantasies involving him over the last two years.

"I'm sorry," he offered, though he didn't sound that earnest in his apology. On the contrary, he suddenly looked at her with brightened eyes and an almost infectious enthusiasm. "But Rose, it was really rather splendid. If you want, I should think that when I'm recovered, we could - "

"Doctor."

"I'm just saying," he said. "That the dream was so good that it deserves to be finished — you woke me up before we got to the really good part, and - "

"Doctor!" she exclaimed, through a loud laugh; she placed her hands over her face as her cheeks heated up.

He rolled onto his side and flung his arm across her belly, tracing his fingertips over the crease of her elbow. "You've no need to be embarrassed. You did say that we're teetering on the edge. Maybe it's this event — me, losing my memories — that'll topple us over once I've regained them."

She dropped her hands, one of them sliding into his hair, stroking softly. "Maybe, yeah," she smiled.

He practically purred under her stroking movements in his hair. "That feels nice," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"I help you style your hair nearly every morning," she replied. "You keep your enjoyment over it well-hidden. Or at least you think you do. I can so tell that you love it."

"Oh, I do," he assured her, shifting closer to her so that he was essentially snuggling her side, his head pillowed on her chest.

"Can't say you've nuzzled my breasts before, though," she pointed out in amusement.

His eyes popped open as he realised where he'd positioned his face. "Ah. Sorry." He paused as he lifted his head to look at her. "Gosh, I'm saying that a lot today."

"I don't mind."

"What, me saying sorry every five minutes, or me -"

"Doctor?" she interrupted softly.

"Mmm?"

"Can I ask you something…personal?"

"Well, yeah, but will I know the answer to it?" he asked. "Given that I've not remembered much else…"

"No, this isn't about this you in particular. It's about you in general. Well. It's sort of about…Time Lords in general, with a specific reference to you."

"Right…" His throat felt slightly scratchy and he answered her with trepidation. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going. He'd been trying not to think about the other Time Lords, given that not so long ago he'd killed them all. "Go ahead. Ask away."

"Thanks. Um. I've never asked you this before, but you seem kind of lucid and easier to broach the topic with at the moment…probably because you don't remember all the reasons we've put off this conversation, but…anyway, um."

"Rose, just ask. Whatever it is."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "Do you have, like, a sex drive?"

He snorted. "I should think that's been fairly obvious with my reactions to you in the last few hours."

"No but I mean, _usually_. Usually, do you. Or has the bump to the head sort of, brought it to the forefront of your mind?"

He flashed her a quick grin, and moved up the bed a bit so that they were eye level. In a low voice, he teased, "Are you asking me what lust is like for Time Lords?"

Rose went a bit pink, but she was nothing if not brave, so she nodded. "Yeah, guess I am."

"Well, it's not the same as it is for humans," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, not that I know from first-hand experience what lust is like for humans, obviously," he added quickly. "But I'm a knowledgeable being; one accumulates knowledge of how different species interact and procreate. For instance, the Xempsorogons mate by hovering their hands over each other's midsection -" He cut himself off as Rose glanced down worriedly at where his hand was perched on her waist. He grinned. "Don't worry, I'm not remotely like a Xempsorogon."

"Okay. Good," she laughed shakily.

"Anyway. It's different. You lot have a biological need for it. Time Lords don't - " He paused, then corrected himself with a swallow, "- didn't tend to, because for centuries we hadn't reproduced through those means. It was bred out of us, I suppose. We evolved to not require it in terms of procreation, thus it wasn't deemed necessary. Of course, it could still be a…recreational activity, but it was sort of looked down on. Unfairly, in my opinion."

"Right."

"Don't sound disappointed, though," he reassured her, with a tender smile. "All that changes if a Time Lord falls in love with a delightful and attractive human woman called Rose Tyler."

Her lips twitched. "Don't try to be charming," she replied.

"Oh but I am charming," he said teasingly, leaning in close. "Seriously, though, Rose. As the song goes, love changes everything."

"So cheesy," Rose grinned, and reached her hand up between them to cup his cheek. Her thumb stroked his sideburn slowly. "What are you saying, then? That Time Lords and humans are compatible?" She waggled her eyebrows.

"Oh, very," he insisted, his breath slightly shaky.

"And you don't consider it as being reserved for, you know, lesser beings?" she asked. "You're not…above all that? Too…esteemed to engage in something so..." She floundered for the right word.

"Primitive?" he grinned. She blushed again and he answered, "Nope. And you are most certainly not a lesser being, in any case."

Rose bit her lip, kind of delighted. So he _could_ …now all that remained was the question of whether he wanted to.

"I know you don't remember," she whispered. "But do you reckon that you — fully-remembering-you — wants me just as much as I want you?"

"Rose, if I didn't, I wouldn't be feeling like this right now," he confirmed.

"Really?"

"Really, really," he nodded.

"You'd better get your memories back soon, then."

"Yes, I'd better," he sighed, trailing his hand up and down her stomach.

"Are you sure you'll still be this interested?"

"Rose, I've got this real suspicion that I'm very much interested in this every single second I spend with you."

She smirked. "That's just a guess."

"An educated guess. Seeing as everything apart from my mind is humming in response to being pressed up against you. And when I say everything apart from my mind what I really mean is that most of my mind is, too, except for the bit that remembers the time we've spent together because it doesn't."

"You're so confusing."

"Think of it as sense memory. Just because my mind can't process it properly in terms of recollecting our time together, doesn't mean the rest of me doesn't realise that there's a certain way I feel about you. Like…like a memory foam mattress! You've left an imprint on me, body and soul, and I've moulded to your presence in my life, only — no, no, I can't think of how to end this analogy." He screwed up his face in thought. "Yeah, forget that. It wasn't the best explanation."

"No, it wasn't," she laughed. "But I get what you mean."

"Your laugh, for instance," he murmured next. "It makes feel all warm and...happy."

Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yep."

"That's quite sweet."

"Well maybe I am quite sweet and you've just never noticed before." He grinned.

"God," she muttered in frustration, completely in love with him more than ever.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking about how much I wish you were in your right mind."

"Oi, I am in my right mind. I've not lost it just 'cos I've lost a few years' of memories."

"No, I know, but like…" She trailed off, biting her lip again.

The Doctor tilted his head close to hers. "You want me to kiss you, don't you."

"Yes," she replied. "But we can't. Not at the moment. Not like this."

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Okay."

"Maybe we should get off this bed. Shall we go and cook something for dinner?"

His stomach growled in response to the mention of food, and his eyes popped open. "Do you know, Rose Tyler, I think that is a very good idea."


	4. Chapter 4

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, waiting for the chips to cook, Rose and the Doctor stared each other down for a few moments.

"Sit down," she said firmly.

"No, you sit down."

"You sit down first."

"No, you sit down first."

Rose heaved a sigh. "You are so bloody annoying."

"I'm just curious as to why you want me to sit down all of a sudden."

"Because when I was putting the chips in the oven, I could feel you hovering and I - "

"I was just trying to help! And you did say that we could cook dinner together. I didn't want you thinking I was forcing you into cooking for me."

She rolled her eyes. "Please. You make me go undercover as a dinner lady or a waitress practically on a monthly basis, and I do that for the safety of the universe. There is no way that I would actually become your housewife."

"Not even if I got down on bended knee?" he joked, and waggled his eyebrows.

"Like to see you try, old man," she muttered, turning back to the oven.

He came closer and peered over her shoulder. "What are we having with the chips then?"

Rose reached behind her and poked him in the hip. "Sausages. Now sit down, you're making me all jittery."

"Do you like cooking?" he asked her, shifting slightly to lean against the counter.

"Not really. We mostly eat out, to be honest, but if we're eating in then we take turns to cook because neither of us are particularly good at it."

He smiled at her. "We're very couple-y, aren't we?"

"I guess," she mumbled, turning the sausages over. "Not that you like the domestic side of things or anything."

"Oh I think the domestic side of things might be quite enjoyable with you," he murmured in a low voice. She caught his gaze and they stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Then the Doctor said, "Within reason, of course."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean the cooking thing, that's all good, and I'm sure I could handle things like visiting your mother or taking you out for a meal. As for mortgages and picking out curtains…" He wrinkled his nose. "Maybe not."

"What about ironing?" she teased.

"I don't even know what that is," he teased back.

"Mmm. The TARDIS does that for both of us, to be fair. Well, and occasionally my mum does. The TARDIS' washing machine is a bit temperamental at the moment, so sometimes we take washing for her - "

"Woah, woah, hold on. 'We?' Do you mean to tell me that your mother has washed my underwear?"

Rose giggled. "You don't even remember her and yet you're scared of that possibility?"

"Um, yes," he answered, as if she were stupid. "I don't like the idea of some human woman sorting through the last of the Time Lord's pants, thank you," he sniffed haughtily.

Rose took a step towards him and he inhaled sharply. "Not even this human woman?" she grinned, pointing at herself.

"Well that depends."

"On what?"

"On whether I'm wearing them at the time," he replied casually.

Rose's breath hitched in surprise. "You did not just say that."

"Oh I think I did, unfortunately," he winced.

"Doctor."

"Rose." They stood even closer to one another. The Doctor murmured, "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

"Just once," she murmured back. "And you ruined it by saying that I was beautiful considering the fact I'm human."

He chuckled. "And when was this?"

"About two days after I first met you. I'd dressed up for nineteenth-century Naples."

"Two days? Blimey. But Naples, well, that's pretty impressi-"

"We ended up in Cardiff."

"Oh."

"Fighting the Gelth."

"Ah."

"At Christmas."

"Well that's nice."

"With Charles Dickens."

His eyes boggled and he cried out enthusiastically, "I finally met Dickens?"

"Yep."

"Well that's a bit brilliant!" he beamed, and then hugged her out of sheer joy. When he released her she looked at him in amusement. "What?" he retorted. "Any excuse for hug, that's us. That's what you said earlier. So that was me, doing what we do. Yeah?"

"Yeah, all right," she smiled. She paused, then added, "Feel free to tell me whenever you like, by the way."

"Tell you what?"

"That you think I'm beautiful."

"Oh!" he remembered. "Okay."

There was a few seconds of silence and then she widened her eyes at him in a prompting gesture.

"Oh!" he said again. "Was that a hint?"

"Yes."

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm rubbish with hints."

"Oh I know."

"You're beautiful, Rose Tyler."

"Ta," she replied. "You're rather dashing yourself."

"Why thank you," his grin widened, "By the way, I think the food is burning."

"Oh bugger," she muttered, turning around to face the oven. "See, I told you to sit down and stop distracting me!"

"It's sausages and chips, Rose, how hard can it be?"

"Says the man who burns toast!" she scoffed.

"Hey! I might like it that way this time around!"

"You don't," she assured him. "You like it when it's basically still just bread but with the tiniest hint of heat so that the butter melts just so."

"It's very odd how you know such things about me when I don't remember them myself," he told her, but then he stroked his finger down the back of her arm slowly to get her to face him, and when she did, added, "But I kind of like it. It's a bit thrilling. What else am I like, Rose Tyler? What else _do_ I like?"

"Marmalade, bananas, trouble, fixing the TARDIS," she listed dismissively, with a wave of her hand. Then she grinned. "Me."

"Well of course. And what about you, do you like those things too?"

"No. I'm a Marmite and apples person. Not together, obviously. But you like neither."

"Oh," he sounded disappointed.

"You hate pears, though, and so do I, so we have that in common, as well as our love of trouble."

"I think, objectively speaking, that you are rather perfect for me," he murmured reverently.

She gave a half-shrug. "We'll see."

"They don't look too bad," he said next, shifting his gaze from her to the food, and giving it a nod. "Shall we eat?"

"Yep," she grinned, then reached for the ketchup and slathered her chips with it. They sat down at the table.

"Oh my," he murmured, in horrified fascination.

"Try it. You love ketchup."

He did try it. And he found that he did love it. "You're humanising me," he muttered around a mouthful of chips, but he sounded absolutely delighted with the prospect if it meant eating such a lovely combination of food.

Rose simply smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't until they were washing up the plates that things heated up again.

They'd chatted amiably over dinner, about all the Doctor's habits and some of the adventures they'd been on together. But as soon as their conversation faded out and they stood side by side in silence - her washing the plates, him drying them - the tension returned. The delicious sort of tension which both of them were quite addicted to.

It was exacerbated every time Rose handed him an item to dry with the tea towel, because both were sure to brush their fingers against each other's in the handover process. And their mutual silence intensified the situation in some unidentifiable way.

Once they had finished, the Doctor handed Rose the tea towel so that she could dry her hands.

"So," he murmured, watching her carefully.

They were standing so close to one another that Rose found it difficult to focus on his face. "Yeah."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Have we ever nearly, you know. Given in. Has there ever been a moment where you thought, this could be it?"

She swallowed hard and nodded. "We were at this ball once. You danced with me all night, but at one point you went to get us some more punch, and this Prince-Duke person — some sort of aristocratic bloke, anyway — he came over to me and, well, he wasn't the sort of person you could say no to a dance with, you know?"

His brow furrowed. "Pretty, was he?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, I don't mean like that — like, he was so powerful and, well, in charge, that it was considered an honour or whatever for him to ask, so I couldn't refuse and cause an uproar. Of course, when you came back to find me dancing with him, you didn't exactly look happy. You can be a bit possessive, you know. You let your jealousy get the better of you sometimes."

"Hmph," he huffed.

"It wouldn't be so bad if you didn't have double standards when it came to yourself," she muttered.

"What?"

"Well only a few weeks before that you'd…actually, I don't want to talk about it. We're having such a nice time, and -"

"What did I do?" he asked, looking anxious.

"No, really, don't worry."

"Did I hurt you?" he questioned quietly. She hesitated and that was his answer. "Oh blimey. Wait. Emotionally or physically?" He looked horrified as he asked.

"Emotionally," she rushed to assure him. "You'd never hurt me in the other way. Ever. Anyway, it's all water under the bridge. You apologised. It's fine."

"But what did I do?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not gonna rake it all up. It was just a stupid misunderstanding. It's nothing in comparison to all the happiness you've brought me, so stop looking so worried."

He nodded slowly, finally accepting her wish to change the subject. Swallowing thickly, he then said, "So you were saying, about the ball. What happened next?"

"You put the punch glasses down on a nearby table and went out of the room, onto the balcony."

"Oh."

"I saw you. I pretended that I needed the loo or something to the posh guy and then followed you out there."

She'd taken another step forward unintentionally, and he looped his arms around her waist, tugging her even closer. "And then?"

"You were facing the other direction. I came up behind you and touched your arm," she said, then paused, closing her eyes as she recollected the scene in the most precise detail she could manage. "You were standing so still and you didn't turn around, but I knew you had felt it because you inhaled sharply. And so I ran my hand down your arm to your hand, and entwined our fingers, tugging you around to face me."

His grip around her waist tightened. "And what happened then?"

She opened her eyes and shivered at the smouldering look he was giving her. "Then you looked at me like you're looking at me right now," she murmured.

"And what did I say?" he asked, his voice low.

Rose swallowed. "You asked me if I had enjoyed my dance with the Duke."

"And had you?"

"No. But I didn't tell you that. I told you that I'd had a lovely time, thank you, and that the Duke was a very good dancer. I wanted to see what you would say. What you would do," she admitted, slightly breathless.

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. "You tried to provoke me into kissing you," he realised.

"Maybe." Then she sighed. "It didn't work."

"It didn't?"

"No. You just bristled and made some cruel comment about how I would enjoy it, wouldn't I."

He frowned. "I'm sorry. That was an awful thing to say."

"Yeah. You knew it, too, because your expression instantly changed afterwards and you grabbed me into a hug and told me you didn't mean it to sound like that."

"And did you tell me to shove off?"

"No. I let you hug me because I thought that maybe - "

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe you'd kiss me, after."

"But I didn't."

"No. You drew back and you looked like you wanted to…but you didn't."

"And then what happened?"

"Someone called for us from the ballroom. And that was that."

"Oh. Quite the anti-climax."

"Indeed."

"You should have just made something up at the end there to entertain me."

"Wouldn't fool you for long, not once you'd regained your memories. And then what would you think of me?"

"I promise you that as soon as I get my memories back I am going to fulfil your every desire," he smiled at her in a friendly way, but his eyes were dark and heated.

"Don't be daft," she laughed.

"I'm not being daft," he countered. "Does this feel like I'm being daft?"

At his question, she finally realised their position. Somehow, during her story, they had moved towards the kitchen counter, and he was now pressing her against it quite firmly. She bit her lip to hide her grin, then said, "Nope. On the contrary, this feels quite…fantastic."

He smiled. "It does, doesn't it?"

"You're giving me that look again," she murmured teasingly.

"I assure you, you are the one giving me looks."

"I am not!" she protested.

"You definitely are. How can I resist you when you are looking at me like this?"

"Like what?" she giggled.

"Like you want me to make love to you on the kitchen worktop."

"Oh blimey," she murmured, biting her lip again.

"And as for that, Rose Tyler!" he exclaimed.

"As for what?"

"That biting your bottom lip thing you do! There's nothing more distracting than you doing that, except perhaps that smile of yours."

Rose inadvertently smiled the smile. "What smile?"

"You know what smile," he growled.

Her arms came up between them to loop around his neck. "I'm quite sure I know nothing," she teased.

"I'm quite sure you know exactly what you do to me," he whispered. "And I'm certain that I love it, however inconveniencing it is."

"Oh, an inconvenience now, is it?"

"Well, yes. I'm supposed to be a saving-the-universe Time Lord. How can I concentrate on that when I've got you right here? How do I ever leave the TARDIS?"

"How long until you're better?" she asked in frustration, wanting nothing more than to lean up for a snog.

He sighed, just as impatient as her. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"I'm still worried that you're gonna freak out about this and retreat again."

"I won't," he said defiantly. "I promise."

"How can you be so sure? Right now, your guard is down. You're all inhibition-free, for some reason. When your memories are back and you've built up your shields and defences against me again, then…" she trailed off sadly.

"Then you'll have to hit me over the head again to knock the sense back in. Or out. Whichever way around it works."

"Doctor," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

He tilted his head forwards so that his lips were just a few inches away from hers. "Maybe I should go back to the infirmary and do a couple more tests. A brain scan or two," he suggested, but his voice was no more than a whisper.

"Maybe you should, yeah," she whispered back, held captive by his gaze.

He swallowed thickly. "I'm going to let you go in just a moment. And then I'm going to go to the infirmary on my own for a bit, so that neither of us lose what remains of our self-control."

"That's — that's probably a good idea," she agreed, with an absent-minded nod.

"But first," he murmured, nudging his nose slightly against hers as he moved in closer. "If it's all right with you…I'd like to, um. I'd like to kiss you. Just for — just for a moment. Would that be okay?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Just for a moment."

"Just for a moment," he repeated, then pressed his mouth to hers.


	6. Chapter 6

"We shouldn't be doing this," she gasped against his mouth ten minutes later.

'Just for a moment' had experienced the good fortune to turn into 'just another second,' which then evolved into, 'just two more minutes,' which had now resulted in ten minutes of heated snogging and an exponential increase in fondling.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, except I'm not sorry, because this is just — this is just…" he murmured back, moving his lips down her neck, sucking and nibbling and —

_"Doctor."_

His hips gave an involuntary push against hers at her moaning of his name, and it startled him into realisation. Unlatching his mouth from her neck and his hands from her waist, he staggered backwards and ended up falling into the kitchen table.

Breathing heavily, they both stared at each other for a few seconds, trying to regain their equilibrium.

"You're…very good at kissing," he murmured tentatively, then cleared his throat.

She couldn't help but laugh. "So are you."

"Really?" he asked, sounding very happy about her comment.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "That was…nice."

He snorted. "That was far more than nice."

"Which is why you ought to go to the infirmary," she nodded briskly.

"That's probably a wise point." They continued staring at each other for a few seconds. Then he added, "I think I ought to stay away from you for the rest of the day."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she exhaled roughly.

"Believe me, it's the last thing I want. But if I'm around you much longer I'm going to want to continue where we just left off, and I know that's not what you really want."

"I do - "

"I know, but not when I don't have all my memories. You deserve something more than a quick - " He hesitated, unable to voice a correct term for the act he so wanted to engage in with her. " — well, suffice to say, we ought to continue this when I remember all our time together. When I remember all the reasons I'm so in love with you."

She squeezed her eyes shut, savouring those words from his lips. "I know. It's okay. You…you go and do your brain scans. I'll be in my room - "

"No," he said suddenly, and her eyes snapped open. She noticed his firm grip on the table he was leaning against; his knuckles turning white with the effort of holding himself back. "No, don't go to your room. Don't tell me where you'll be, or I won't be able to resist coming to find you."

She bit her lip to contain her grin of delight. "I never dreamed you could be this…"

"Aroused?" he finished for her. "Oh, Rose. Neither did I." Then he grinned. "It's pretty brilliant, really, but bloody painful at the same time."

"Right," she breathed out shakily, unable to hide her smile any longer. "I'll just…" She gestured to the door. "Disappear for a few hours, then."

"Yes. Thank you."

"No problem."

He heard her giggling her way down the corridor and released his grasp on the table, standing up straight and running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "Right. Infirmary." Then, just as he took his first step towards the kitchen door, he realised, "No, wait. Shower first. Then infirmary. Yes. Good plan, even if I do say so myself."

::

An hour later, Rose was thoroughly bored. Which was preposterous, really — there was so much to explore on the TARDIS, and she'd never before found herself with nothing to do. But her mind was preoccupied, and she now didn't have any desire to pursue the countless activities available to her. All she wanted to do, all she could think about doing, was the one thing that wasn't available to her.

She heaved a sigh, staring up at the stars in the projector room. She loved it in here. It was an amazing room; there was a soft seated area, where she was currently lying, positioned inside an enormous astronomy globe. She was surrounded on all sides by projections of the Milky Way and other local galaxies, and she came in here whenever she needed to think about something or make a decision, or sometimes just to relax. It soothed her, this room.

Well, it usually soothed her. At the moment, Rose was still as confused and hopeful and wary as she was when she'd come in an hour previous.

She needed the Doctor to remember. That was all there was to it. If he remembered, then she could act on her feelings. Even though she was slightly nervous about it, in case he rejected her, she knew she had to talk to him properly about what there was between them. Because she didn't think that she could go on much longer pretending that they were just friends. She knew that they were on the edge of becoming more than that, she could feel it in every glance he'd sent her prior to his memory loss, not to mention the heated ones he'd been giving her today.

She'd defeated Daleks and a whole host of other creatures across time and space. Surely she could muster up the courage to tell the Doctor she loved him.

::

Meanwhile, the Doctor had finished his brain scans and was staring at them forlornly. Not because there was anything seriously wrong with his brain, just because he was still none the wiser as to when his memories of the last two years, of Rose, would return.

It was standard retrograde amnesia, and he was fairly confident that his memories would return completely within a few days. He was a Time Lord, after all, and as such his brain was much vaster and more complex than a human's, capable of retaining tiny insignificant details about events as well as the obvious ones. For instance, he could recollect the exact pattern of Rose Tyler's breathing from their time in the kitchen earlier, when he had her pressed up against the counter, along with every gasp of pleasure and beat of her pulse as he'd sucked at her neck, when anyone else would probably just recall one thing or the other. Or simply the way she had felt against him, body aligned with his, hands touching and lips wandering and -

He growled under his breath. Thinking those thoughts certainly wasn't helping.

He knew, realistically, he had nothing to worry about. It was a bump on the head, and that was easy to deal with when one was a Time Lord. He'd heal quickly, that was no problem. It was just that for him, and how impatient he was, it wouldn't be quick enough. He hated to feel even the slightest incapacitated, and even more than that, he hated that he couldn't remember anything about what was quite possibly the best time of his life.

He stood up and began pacing the infirmary.

There was a solution to regaining the memories even quicker than waiting for them to come back naturally, he knew that. He'd always known that. But he hadn't told Rose, and he shouldn't even be contemplating it, really, which was the precise reason he'd kept it to himself in the first place. But it was so bloody tempting.

He could ask her, just to see. But then she'd probably say yes, and he'd feel like the worst sort of cad for taking advantage of her, because she wouldn't know just what the action would do to him. For her, it wouldn't seem nearly so intimate, and — and —

No. He couldn't ask it of her. He just couldn't.


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out that he didn't need to ask her, because she was the one who brought it up first.

She had wandered to the library and researched ways of regaining memories, and in the vast collection, she happened to stumble across a chapter on memory transfer within telepathic species.

As she read it, she wondered if perhaps this would work with the Doctor. He was telepathic, and if she concentrated hard enough on all the reasons why she wanted him to get better with the quickest possible haste, she could get over the fact that it might be a bit of an invasion of privacy, to say the least, to have him inside her head.

And it would only be for a few moments. He was used to seeing inside people's minds; the book said that telepathic races could nip in, sort through memories like looking through a filing cabinet, and nip back out again with the knowledge tucked inside their own head now, too.

Which, as she thought about it, made her frown. She imagined that many people with telepathic abilities probably used such methods for nefarious purposes. But the Doctor was a good man, and they cared about each other, and he certainly wouldn't use any information he acquired against her. Plus, if she did as the chapter advised and closed things she didn't want him to see behind visualisations of locked doors, then he would only be acquiring their shared memories, things he'd had before anyway. Her mind made up, she closed the book, tucked it under her arm, and sought out the Doctor.

::

He was still in the infirmary when she found him. He looked up as she entered, and smiled, a little shyly. Rose found this amusing and shot him a flirty grin in return, before sitting down beside him on the bunk and placing the book in his hands.

"What's this?" he asked curiously, turning it over to see the front cover.

"Take a look at chapter eight. Do you reckon that it would be a good way to jog your memories? Let you go inside my head and see some of mine?"

He'd flipped to chapter eight when she'd mentioned it, but suddenly slammed the book shut. "What?"

Rose flinched slightly at his tone of voice. "Oh. Is that not…um, was that really offensive of me to ask?" she said, worried that she'd upset him by mentioning something so integral to his species. The species of which he was the only one left.

His expression softened, and he placed the book aside to take her hand in both of his. "No, of course not. I just…" He swallowed hard. "I just didn't expect you to think of something like that."

Her eyebrows drew together worriedly. "I just want to help, that's all."

He squeezed her hand. "I know you do. I'm not sure that would be the best way to go about it, though."

"Oh," she murmured, disappointed that her theory had fallen through. "I s'pose I didn't really research it properly. I just suddenly thought of it, after reading that bit about the mind transfer thingies. Sorry, just…forget I said anything."

"Rose," he said, in a strange voice.

She met his gaze in confusion. "Yeah?"

"I…" He hesitated. But then, because he didn't want her to feel like she'd been daft to think of such a thing, he told her, "Listen, you're actually right. It would help. It would work very well, in fact. And I'm very proud of you for thinking the idea up."

"I can sense there's a 'but' coming," she said wisely, but couldn't quite hide her delighted smile that she'd worked something out and he'd praised her for it.

He let out a long breath and released her hand, standing up. Putting a bit of distance between them by wandering over to the scanning equipment, he nodded distractedly. "Yeah. Bit of a big 'but,' to tell you the truth."

"And what's that?" she asked curiously.

He turned so that he couldn't see her face, couldn't even see her in his peripheral vision as he gave his explanation. "There are lots of things I need to tell you, Rose. As you evidently know, my race is, was, telepathic, and there were many facets to that telepathy. One, there's the specific-interaction kind, where I can, using some form of touch, either converse with someone telepathically, show them images, or temporarily give someone else the ability to hear telepathic communication."

"Okay," Rose said, understanding. "That makes sense so far."

He nodded in acknowledgement of her comprehension but didn't turn around. "Two, there was a consistent presence of fellow Time Lords in all our minds — kind of like a background hum, constantly in our heads, hardly noticeable until it's gone." He closed his eyes for a few moments, breathing deeply. Composing himself, he continued, "When the Time Lords died, obviously their presence in my mind disappeared too. It's very lonely, in my head. I never really cared for many of my own kind, except a few dear friends, but once they were all gone completely, I…" he trailed off. "Anyway, point is, I'm not sure it would be the best idea to look inside your mind, Rose. With you, the whole…process, it…it'd…well, it'd be very, uh, intimate. And worst of all, I probably wouldn't want to leave."

"Ah."

"Yeah," he exhaled roughly.

"Can I point something out quickly?"

"Of course."

"You've done this recently."

"What?" He spun around, staring at her in bafflement. "You mean to say we've already - "

"No, not us. Not me and you." She looked at the floor for a moment, to get her suddenly erratic breathing under control. Then she met his confused gaze and continued, "You met someone. You needed to find out something about her past, so that you could work out why these, um, clockwork droids were after her."

"Right," he nodded. "Well, I would suppose that - "

"I wasn't finished," she murmured.

"Oh. Sorry. Go on?"

"Thanks. Well." She coughed awkwardly. "You looked into her mind. And she looked into yours."

He frowned. "I don't understand. Was she a telepath too?"

"She was human."

"Well, some humans to have slightly enhanced abilities in those areas than others," he acknowledged.

Rose swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Yeah. Figured you'd say something like that. She was pretty special."

"So was the communication successful?" he asked.

She blinked rapidly. "You could say that, yeah."

His eyebrows lifted halfway up his forehead. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

"Something's wrong," he insisted, walking over to her. "Your voice did a little hitch-y thing. Are you upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"I beg to differ," he countered, kneeling in front of her so that they were eye level.

She shifted restlessly on the bunk. "It's nothing."

"Rose?"

She met his gaze fiercely. "Please just leave it."

He lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay. Whatever you want," he said gently.

"She saw your childhood."

He stiffened. "She what?"

"I told you she looked inside your mind."

"Yes, but I have barriers up. So that people can't go rooting around in there seeing things I don't want them to see."

"Like I said. She was special. Maybe you forgot the barriers with her."

"But I couldn't." He stared at her in incomprehension for a few moments, then it dawned on him why she was sounding so despondent. "Oh."

"Hmm?"

He shook his head slowly in disbelief. "I've worked it out."

"You've remembered?" she asked quickly.

"No, no. No. I've just worked it out."

"How?"

He sighed and came to sit next to her again. "Earlier, you spoke about me hurting you. Emotionally. This was what you meant, wasn't it? You think that I had some sort of telepathic connection with someone else."


	8. Chapter 8

"More than a telepathic one," she grumbled, not looking at him.

Tentatively, fearing that she'd shrug out of his touch, he placed his arm around her shoulders. She didn't pull away, so he gently tugged her into his side, so that she was leaning against him. "I wish I could remember properly so that I could give you some meaningful reassurance. But just take this, what I'm about to say, from non-remembering me, and trust it for now, yeah?"

"Okay…" she said slowly.

"Thank you. Rose, you know how I feel about you. The only reason that I haven't attempted a telepathic connection with you is because I'm scared that the strength of those feelings might overwhelm us both."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think about how it would feel for me to observe your memories. Your memories aren't just snapshots of your life, Rose. It's not even simply like video footage. It's every smell and taste and feeling, and for me to see them would require a lot of trust on your part." Then he added wryly, "And a lot of deep breathing on mine."

A hint of a smile ghosted her face. "Thing is, though, I could just hide stuff I didn't want you to see, right?"

"Well, yes, if you hone the skill — and I can teach you how to manage mind defences if you want me to. But it's still — it's still tricky. Imagine how you'd feel if something slipped through that you didn't want me to see. I don't just mean things you're embarrassed over and don't want people to know about; I mean personal things like — like the way you feel for me romantically, like desire, like - "

"All right, I get your point," she murmured, flushing pink. "But if it would help you get your memories back…"

"I'm sure they'll come back soon enough on their own."

"But what if they don't?"

He sighed. She still didn't get it. "Rose, you have to understand, even if you managed to keep your privacy by hiding things behind metaphorical doors, the tiniest glimpse of your mind would undo me."

"What?" she whispered.

"Think about it this way. Earlier, in the kitchen, when we kissed. You wanted more than just a kiss. Correct?"

She blushed again. "Well, yeah."

He struggled through the words with determination, however embarrassed he felt saying it so bluntly. "Well, it's the same for me. The briefest touch from you sets my hearts racing. It's fairly obvious to you, I would hope, that I want you physically."

Rose pressed her lips together, hiding her smile.

"With your mind, the principle is exactly the same. One touch, and I'd crave more. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I think so, yeah." She paused. "Only…"

"Yeah?"

Rose cleared her throat. "You talk about it like this, and it seems so intimate, yeah?"

"Indeed."

"Well, if it's so intimate, then when you go into a stranger's mind…"

He rolled his eyes. "Rose. When you accidentally brush past someone in the street, or hold a friend's hand, or kiss someone you're not that attracted to under the mistletoe or at New Year's just for the sake of tradition or drunkenness, do you automatically want to take any of those people to bed?"

Rose blinked at him in astonishment. "No."

"My point is, it's different because it's you. Because, through some rhyme or reason that I don't even know right now, I love you."

"Oh. Okay." She bit her lip for a second, then smiled sheepishly. "One more thing."

"What?" he sighed good-naturedly.

She stood up, and tugged him with her so that they could stand face to face. "What does 'more' entail?"

"How do you mean?"

"You said that the smallest touch and you'd want more. So what is more?"

He tugged on his ear awkwardly. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah, I do." She gave him an emphatic nod.

"Well, I'd want you to let me in deeper," he explained. She smirked and he laughed. "I mean, I'd want you to let me in even more, so that we could be inside each other's heads when we - kiss."

She arched an eyebrow. "Just when we kiss?"

"Perhaps not just when we kiss."

Rose chuckled and looped her arms around his neck, moving in closer. "What would it feel like?" she murmured.

This was dangerous territory, he realised. Talking about this with her only made it all the more tempting to attempt. But he had to be honest. "I don't actually know what it would feel like. I'd imagine it'd take some getting used to, especially for a human. I don't know quite what your telepathic range is, but it might be the case that it'd be a one-way street, so to speak. By which I mean that I would be enveloped in the pleasure of being inside your mind while you might not experience much...let's say, excitement."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed.

"But like I said, I've no definite idea. Could be that you have a higher telepathic capacity than is the norm for humans, or it could be that my own telepathic capacity could supplement yours. Give it a boost, so to speak. I've heard that it can be like a feedback loop."

"You've heard?"

"Yes. I've never been quite that intimate with anyone, you know," he whispered. Rose scoffed. "I haven't," he insisted. "On Gallifrey, there was this thing we could do, if we so chose; a kind of telepathic bond, I suppose, which connected two people in the most fundamental of ways. It was more an ordinary Gallifreyan thing rather than a Time Lord thing, really. Didn't see much of that going on in the Citadel. But, despite me being a bit of an inquisitive renegade, I never found out for myself what it was like."

"But you were married," she said, sounding puzzled.

He blinked at her in shock. "Well, yes. How did you know that?"

She looked at him as though he were daft. "You told me, obviously."

"Right. Course I did," he murmured, starting to laugh. "You really are remarkable, Rose Tyler."

She ignored that and persisted, "This mind bond thing sounds like a marriage. Why didn't you and your wife do that, then?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't a stipulation. Besides, it wasn't as if it were a love match."

"It wasn't?"

"No. I mean, I loved her in the end, but we didn't fall in love, so to speak."

"Right."

"Rose, even just brushing your mind with mine would make me want to fulfil its potential. I won't do that. I can't do that."

"But what if I wanted you to? I don't mean now, I don't even mean anytime soon, but what if, eventually, what if I wanted that? The bond thingy. Could we? Is it at least possible?"

"I…" he murmured hesitantly. "I'm not sure."


	9. Chapter 9

Rose was quiet for a few moments, looking thoughtful. Then she said astutely, "You're not going to mention this ever again once you've got your memories back, are you?"

"I shouldn't even be talking about it now," he pointed out. He moved away from her, busying himself with tidying up the infirmary as he spoke. "You are just far too tempting and it's not — it's not right, for me to want more from you. And it wouldn't be right of me to accept you saying that you want more too, because what if you change your mind and it's too late? What if it doesn't work? What if it works but it hurts you in some way? I won't chance it, Rose. And that's that."

"So you'll continue to go snooping into other people's minds now and then to solve some mystery or another, but you'll never, ever look into mine?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry if you think that I'm willingly keeping things from you, or if you think that I think you can't handle it. But the fact is, I don't even know what it would entail, so how can I possibly ask you to take the risk? I can't and I won't. As for right now, I'll wait for my memories to come back on their own. It shouldn't take more than a few days."

Rose nodded in reluctant acceptance. "Okay. All right. I understand."

"Thank you," he murmured. He'd finished clearing up, so he just stood and looked at her for a few moments. "I'm going to be okay, Rose. We're going to be okay. Better than."

"Yeah," she smiled. "Yeah, I know."

He held out his hand and she grabbed it quickly, letting him draw her towards him. "Shall we do something relaxing, to take our minds off everything?" he questioned softly.

"Hmm. Yeah. How about a movie?"

"That would be nice," he agreed. "I suggest The Lion King."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I've literally seen that sixteen times this year already. I am not going through it again, however good it is."

He sighed. "All right. You choose. But nothing…fluffy."

"What does that even mean?" Rose laughed. "I don't think I've ever watched a 'fluffy' film in my life."

Together, they walked out of the infirmary. Rose continued, "I'm gonna go change into something comfy. You get the supplies."

"Supplies?"

"Popcorn, sweets, chocolate, tea."

"Ah, yes. Right you are." He mock-saluted her and made his way to the kitchen.

Rose watched him walk off, and smiled. An evening cuddling on the sofa together would do them the world of good, she was sure.

::

Thirty minutes later, they were engrossed in Toy Story 3; the Doctor's choice. Rose admitted that she'd enjoyed the first two, and she hadn't known that a third film was even in the works, something that the Time Lord had immediately jumped upon — Oh, it's brilliant, Rose! You have to see it! It's a classic! Timeless, it is! — and Rose hadn't needed that much persuading. It was interesting, getting to see a film a few years early. And the storyline itself was just the right mix of nostalgia and humour. They both pretended that they hadn't shed a tear or two near the end.

As the credits rolled, they turned to each other. The Doctor murmured, "Time for bed?"

"Mmm. Do you reckon we might be able to sleep in the same bed tonight without accidentally having sex?" Rose asked quietly.

He let out a long breath. Tenderly pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, he replied, "I think we can certainly try."

They shared a grin.

Of course, things didn't exactly go according to plan. They didn't actually accidentally have sex, but they did end up in quite the compromising position.

They'd only been asleep a few hours when Rose woke up, and she immediately had to suppress a fit of giggles. The Doctor was sprawled across her, his arms so tightly wound around her waist that she was sure his hands, trapped beneath her back as they were, must have had pins and needles. One of his legs was in between hers, and his head was tucked just under her chin, his breath warming her collar bone. His position, clinging to her, was almost child-like. Almost, but not quite; after all, she could feel the smattering of hair on his chest through the thin material of her vest top. She realised, then, with a sudden surge of heat, that he was bare-chested.

She'd known this before falling asleep, of course, when she'd told him to get into his pyjamas and he came back to her room claiming he could only find the bottoms. Yeah, right. He just wanted to tease her. She ignored his ploy, and pretended she believed him.

But now, having him pressed against her like this...

Any other bloke and she'd find it unbearable, having someone sleeping practically on top of her. She should find it stifling, and hot in the temperature sense rather than anything remotely alluring. Certainly she hadn't been able to abide Mickey cuddling her whilst she slept, getting them all sticky and sweaty in the unpleasant way. But the Doctor's cooler body temperature eliminated any such discomfort. And his weight pressed against her was not unbearably heavy; in fact, it felt…reassuring.

Rose did, however, have to extricate herself from his embrace in order to use the toilet, so she carefully disengaged his grip on her, rolled him off her, and managed to slip out of the bed without waking him.

After using the loo, she got back into the bed, and lay on her side, facing away from him. However nice it had been having him hug her in their sleep, she knew that it was best that they refrain from encouraging too much temptation; if they'd both awakened like that at the same time, who knew what they might have done.

Barely four minutes later, though, she felt his hand reach out blindly for her, before settling on her hip. In his sleep, he used this as leverage to scoot up behind her, pressing himself along her back. Rose couldn't help but smile, and she secretly wondered if, when morning arrived, she'd feel something distinctly male poking her in the bum.


	10. Chapter 10

His eyes fluttered open slowly as he awoke. Spooned behind Rose as he was, her hair was tickling his nose, so he tilted his head back slightly and yawned. He rolled onto his back, stared up at the ceiling and ignored the misplaced expectancy of a certain part of his anatomy, a slow smile creeping across his face as he realised that some of his memories were bleeding through. 

It had started last night in his dreams; a footprint in the snow and a dress fit for Naples; looking out through the glass at the Earth coming to its end; a hand in his as he ran across a bridge on a London evening. And then this morning, waking up just now and seeing a picture so vivid, so startlingly true: Rose, engulfed with the golden tendrils of the vortex. He let out a long breath. Oh, his precious girl. What she had done for him.

He turned his head and watched Rose sleeping quietly beside him. Unable to resist, he reached a hand up and smoothed her hair out of her eyes for her. His fingertips lingered on her cheeks, stroking softly. "Rose," he whispered. "Rose, I'm starting to remember."

She made a little grumbling noise as she started to waken, brushing his hand from her face and snuggling deeper beneath the duvet. He tilted his body towards her, resting on his side again, and dropped his arm around her waist. "Okay," he murmured, a daft grin on his face. "You sleep some more. I'll lie here and see if I can remember anything else."

It came back in waves, after that. When he was making toast later that morning, he suddenly recalled another kitchen, in a tiny flat, and Rose telling him off for eating a slice of Jackie's newly-made apple pie before it had even cooled down. He'd burnt his tongue.

And then he turned around to tell Rose about this new memory, and she was dozing at the table, head resting on her arms. He tutted and came and sat down in front of her, loudly placing the plate of toast on the table. "Anyone would think I'd kept you up all night or something," he teased.

"If only," she muttered, lifting her head up. She stuck her tongue out at him and snagged a piece of toast. "I reckon the last few days must be catching up with me. It's been quite…odd, after all."

He nodded in agreement. "You could say that, yeah."

They watched each other closely over breakfast, taking in each bite of toast and each sip of tea.

"You're very sexy like this," he murmured suddenly, apropos of nothing. He waved his hand at her in indication of his point. "All…rumpled and sleepy."

Rose arched an eyebrow. "If you say so."

"I do say so," he insisted, his tone lowering. "Rose, did we once sleep in a hammock together or did I dream that one?"

She giggled, "No, that's true actually. It was very uncomfortable, but there wasn't much choice about it. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," he replied innocently.

"No, go on, tell me."

He exhaled thoughtfully. "It's just that I have this distinct memory of waking up, in a hammock, with a crick in my neck, and with you in my arms, and wanting to kiss you. You looked just like you look right now."

Rose grinned slowly. "Why didn't you?"

"Because the dragon creature we were hiding from found us at the exact moment I'd made the decision to tilt my head towards yours."

"Yeah," Rose laughed. "That did spoil the moment a bit, didn't it?"

"It's floating back, Rose. Told you it would. I'm getting little snippets, little flashes of memory. And as I recall more and more, it comes back quicker and quicker."

"What else do you remember?" she asked, leaning across the table and taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.

"I remember a Beatles concert. And I remember you telling Paul that he ought to change his haircut. In fact you told every single one of them to change their haircut. I don't think they appreciated that advice, Rose Tyler."

She beamed at him. "I'm so glad you're starting to remember stuff. And in so much detail."

"I remember being banished by Queen Victoria. I'm not sure why we were banished, but I distinctly remember the telling off we got for whatever it was." Rose laughed again, and it was glorious, so he continued, "Did we ride a moped at some point? I'm getting moped vibes."

"Not in 1879 we didn't," she snorted in amusement.

"No of course not, that would be silly," he agreed. "I wasn't saying that the two events were correlated in any way."

Rose giggled. "Of course not. What else?"

"I remember a man called Jack…Harkness?" He closed his eyes for a moment, as things to do with Jack started taking shape. He frowned suddenly. "Hold on, you didn't…"

"No," she answered. "We didn't."

He smiled. "Good."

"Jealous Time Lord."

"Can't help it," he said sheepishly. He suddenly jumped up from the table.

"Woah, what's up?" she asked worriedly, as she took in his abruptly frantic expression.

"You — you - "

"I what?"

He swallowed hard. "Your face," he whispered.

"Oh. Yeah. Um, that was quite — it wasn't your fault. Don't worry about it."

His expression darkened.

"Seriously, Doctor, don't worry about it." She stood up, too, and looped her arms around his neck. "Everything worked out fine. We saved the coronation. We danced at a street party and drank cheap orange squash. You accidentally touched my bum when I tripped over a stray cupcake and you moved to catch me."

He chuckled. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be," she grinned.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and sighed contentedly. "I've just remembered something else."

"Yeah?" she asked hopefully.

"I don't know where I am, but I'm suspended on some sort of cable down a dark pit, and I nearly make someone promise to tell you I love you if I don't make it back."

Her breath hitched. "Krop Tor," she murmured. "Oh god. You really nearly said that?"

"Yeah," he exhaled roughly. "But I changed my mind, because you knew anyway. You did, yeah? You do know?"

Rose nodded. "Still nice to hear, though."

"Yes, it is rather nice, isn't it?" he hinted.

"I love you, too," she laughed, and he grinned at his successful tactic. "I wonder how we'll know when you've got all your memories back."

"Oh, I'll know," he assured her. "Time Lord minds are ordered things, Rose Tyler. I'm filling in the gaps, and I can tell where the remaining gaps are, if you see what I mean." He lowered his voice. "Thank you for being patient with me, but you needn't worry; it won't be for much longer."

"And then…" she murmured, biting her lip nervously.

"And then," he agreed, with a smirk. He leant in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "Alternatively, we could just - "

"Nope," she giggled. "Not until you're fully healed."

He sighed. "Okay."


End file.
